


Not Without Risk

by irredux



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Eventual Smut, Explicit Consent, F/M, Family Issues, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irredux/pseuds/irredux
Summary: You tell yourself that you're not desperate to be loved, but when you're throwing yourself at your English teacher's feet, what other conclusion is there to come to? But he calls you smart. And he looks at you like you're actually important. Like you might actually be worth something. 
Like you're worth the risk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Before anyone tries to crawl up my ass about it:
> 
> I am very aware of how unhealthy a teacher/student relationship is. Especially a high school teacher/student relationship.  
> This is something that I'm writing to deal with some shit, so please, just don't read it if it's not your thing.
> 
> Also, in case anyone cares, nothing sexual happens between Akaashi and the reader until reader turns 18.
> 
> This is also set in a North American setting.

The crisp fall air felt good filtering through your lungs; cleansing them of the stuffy, greasy, air you were forced to breathe in your small home. The sun was just peeking over the trees as you walked down the sidewalk, school bag heavy on your back, and too-tight shoes pinching at your feet. You were going to have to start putting money aside for new shoes.

 As the school came into view a light feeling of relief spread through you, as it always did, knowing that you had six full hours away from home ahead of you. More if you could manage a detention today.

It was also a Wednesday, which meant that _he_ would be supervising detention.

You tried to shake that thought from your head as you entered the school, choosing instead to think about the math assignment you hadn't finished last night that was due today. Your baby brother had been sick and fussy all night, and with your mom at work, and you being the oldest sibling, you'd been the one stuck taking care of him. Trying to solve equations with a crying, squirmy two year old in your arms was nearly impossible. Your sister, who was four years younger than you, had offered to help, but she had her own project to do. Not to mention she was only thirteen. You didn't want her school work to suffer the way yours did, especially since she was already far better in school than you had ever been anyway.

Suddenly a hard bump of your shoulder knocked you out of your thoughts and you realized that you'd been walking down the hallway with your head down.

"I'm so sorry," you started just as a familiar, painfully attractive, voice apologized as well.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you really didn't want to look up at the source of the voice. Unfortunately, mumbling and running away would only make you look like an idiot, and that wasn't something you wanted to live with.

"Sorry, Mr. Akaashi," you looked up and met his deep green eyes briefly before looking down and fidgeting with the straps of your backpack, "I wasn't paying attention."

"Don't worry about it," he said your name and butterflies flitted in your stomach, "It seems we were both lost in our own worlds."

"Right." You forced out a nervous laugh and glanced up at him again.

He was watching you with slight smile on his face.

"Have you finished the required reading for today's class?" he asked, adjusting the papers and day-timer he held in his hands.

"Yes."

"Of course, silly question," the corners of his lips lifted just a little more, "See you this afternoon."

With that he walked away.

That was certainly one way to start your day.

You groaned inwardly and continued to your locker, trying your best to ignore the persistent fluttering in your stomach. It was just a stupid crush, but sometimes just a glance from your English teacher made your heart want to explode.

It was a problem. One you didn't know how to solve.

 

"Your assignment, please."

Ms. Richardson stood in front of your desk with her hand held out expectantly. You avoided her stern gaze as you said, "I don't have it done."

She took back her hand and let out an annoyed breath through her nose.

"This is the second assignment this semester that you have not turned in on time. In fact you didn't even bother with finishing the last one."

Your cheeks flushed with shame and you wrung your hands together under your desk.

"I'll get this one done," you mumbled, "It's just that my baby brother was sick last night, a-and I was the only there to take care of him."

 The click of her tongue was irritating, as if she was suggesting that a feverish two-year-old was no excuse. You glanced up, only to look away again once you met her disapproving gaze.

"You will stay for detention today," she said sternly, "to finish the assignment, since getting your work done at home seems to be such a problem for you."

Her words dug under your skin, making all of your muscles tense with anger, and you had to bite your cheek to keep yourself from snapping at her. You were fairly certain that Ms. Richardson came from a well off family. There was no way to make her understand just how much of a problem home was for you. So, instead you took a breath and then muttered a quiet _yes ma'am._

Satisfied, she walked away, leaving you to glare holes into your desk and dig your nails into your arm out of view from everyone else.

At least you got your detention.

 

Lunch was a lonely time for you now, since your small number of friends had graduated last year. You didn't much mind being alone, but sometimes it would have been nice to have _someone_ to talk to, instead of being left to listen to your own thoughts echo around the empty corridor you sat in.

You sighed to yourself and stared at your poor-kid-charity-school-lunch which consisted of a gross looking tuna sandwich and small milk. There wasn't anything very appetizing about it, but it was better than nothing, which is what you would be eating if left to provide lunch on your own.

Laughter echoed down the hallway as a group of girls walked past, loud, happy, and carefree. The sound set an ache in your chest, one you'd thought you'd gotten over already, and you had to remind yourself that this was your last year. Only one more year of high school and then – well – you didn't know what would come after.

But that was a worry for another day.

The clock on the wall told you that you only had ten more minutes of lunch, so you started to eat your food. Your afternoons were actually something you looked forward to. Your third period was Ancient History, which was easy because the teacher was a middle-aged man in the middle of a divorce who couldn't care less about actually teaching the class, and for your last period you had English, which was your favourite subject for two reasons:

  1. You loved to read



And,

  1. _He_ taught the class



 

God, you needed to get yourself together.

 

As predicted, your third period went by as easily as usual. You and the other students watched a film about Greek architecture while your teacher stood out in the hallway talking on the phone with his lawyer, so you took the chance to take a light nap and catch up on some sleep. A couple hours later you were woken to the sound of the bell ringing and the classroom lights being switched on. At first you were worried about being caught, but when you looked around you saw that the teacher was distracted by furiously typing something out on his phone. By the furrow of his brow, you'd guess that the divorce wasn't going his way.

After packing up and leaving the classroom, you hurried down the hallway towards the staircase that would take you to the third floor of the school. For your other classes you took your time getting there, arriving fashionably late, as it were. But when it came to Mr. Akaashi's class, you generally liked to arrive as soon as possible. Except on particularly bad days when you felt like you needed someone's attention. Then you would show up exactly five minutes late so that he would have to scold you. He always sounded stern of course, but you couldn't help but notice the playful look he would get in his eyes that set off butterflies in your stomach as you would cast your eyes down and apologise.

Today, however, you were eager to discuss the book that he had your class reading, and you also wanted to get as much time around him as possible.  So you jogged up the flight of stairs and then made your way to the classroom, trying to walk as casually as possible while still hoping you were the first to arrive.

And thankfully, when you walked through the door, there were no other students in the room. Mr. Akaashi was at the front erasing the chalkboard. He looked over at you when he heard your footsteps.

"Good afternoon," he said with a nod.

You nodded back and went to your seat, choosing to start unpacking your books before you sat down.   

"So tell me," he started while finishing up his erasing, "how is it that some days you show up five or ten minutes late, but most others you're the first one here?"

He turned to you and raised an eyebrow as you immediately felt yourself starting to blush. You looked down and bit your bottom lip while trying to think of what to say. After a moment you looked up at him and quietly answered, "I guess it just depends on what route I take."

He crossed his arms and gave you a dry look. "Right," he said, and then the corner of his mouth twitched and he sighed, "I suppose if I think back to my high school days, nothing I ever did then made sense either."

He started walking towards his desk at the side of the room.  You took your seat and feeling brave you shot back, "What? Twenty years ago?"

That surprised a quiet chuckle from him and he shook his head. "Only fifteen thank you."

"Ah," was all you said before you opened your notebook and started scribbling, a light feeling in your chest.

A few minutes later the classroom was filled with the rest of the students in your class, and Mr. Akaashi walked up to the front of the room, greeted everyone, and then started the lesson.

 

"Okay, now that we've refreshed on what the story is about, who can tell me some of the themes that we have encountered so far in _The Book Thief_?"

There was some shuffling, a couple of light coughs, and then nothing. You didn't raise your hand yet because you didn't want to seem too eager. Mr. Akaashi raised his eyebrow and looked around the classroom. Finally someone raised their hand and he nodded for them to answer.

"War?"

"Sure," he agreed and wrote it on the board, "What else?"

You raised your hand and said your name in permission.

"Death."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, the narrator of the story _is_ Death," You fiddled with your pen, "So it seems fair to assume that it's going to be an important part of the story."   

"Fair indeed." He wrote it on the board and then looked around the room. "Anything else?"

Again no one answered.

"Come on guys."

You raised your hand again.

His eyes smiled. "Yes?"

"There seems to be an emphasis on colours in the story. I think it's possible they will be used as a way of foreshadowing."

"Interesting, okay."

Once he turned back after writing it on the board you raised your hand again. There was a quiet scoff behind you but you ignored it.

"Go ahead."

"I think the most important theme of the story is words." The smile in his eyes reached his lips. "A-and the power that they have."

"Excellent." He wrote it on the board and then turned back.  "That's the one I was looking for."

You ducked your head to try and hide the smile that was fighting its way onto your face, satisfaction flowing through you.  

"Okay," he said to the class, "Now I want you to get into groups of four or five and discuss what literary devices have been used so far and then we'll go over them as a class in thirty minutes."

There were some groans and then the screeching of chairs as people started to flock to their friends. You waited, watching everyone else until everybody was already grouped up and you were forced to pick one.

Group work was hell.

 

When the bell rang for the end of class you packed up your things slowly, dawdling as much as possible so that you'd be the last to leave the classroom. When the last of your classmates finally left, you hefted on your backpack and started moving towards the door.

"You had some excellent thoughts today," Mr. Akaashi said as he finished packing up his laptop bag, "though I am not surprised."

"Thank you," you replied, stopping by his desk.

He zipped up his bag and looked up at you. "Are you enjoying it?"

"Yeah, I like it a lot." You gripped the straps of your backpack, trying not to fidget. "It's really beautifully written."

"It is." He pulled his bag over his shoulder and then motioned for you to start heading towards the door, following behind. "I was quite glad when the school board allowed me to introduce it to the curriculum."

"I guess I am too then." You gave a small laugh. "I wouldn't have known about it unless we were reading it in class."

You both walked out of the door and Mr. Akaashi closed it behind himself, locking it before turning to you.

"If you ever want book recommendations, I would be happy to give them to you."

"Oh, that would be great." You chewed your lip and thought for a moment. "Although, it's not as fun reading books and then having nowhere to talk about them."

He laughed his quiet laugh. "And you would be welcome to share your thoughts on them with me after class."

Your stomach did a flip and a smile broke out on your face. "I-I'd like that."

He smiled back at you. "Great." He looked down at his watch, "Ah, I'm sorry but I have detention duty and I have to get going."

"Actually," You laughed nervously. "I have detention, so..."

He gave you an unimpressed look and raised his eyebrow. "Again?"

You looked down and shrugged.

"I don't understand how you, my best student, winds up in detention all the time."

A wry smile found its way onto your face and you peered up at him. "I'm not every teacher's best student."

He looked away and shook his head, but you could tell that he was trying not to smile. He sighed and then started walking down the hallway. "Come with me then."

With a smile on your face you followed.

 

It turned out that you were the only student with detention that day, something that made you very nervous. You weren't allowed to speak in detention, so of course that meant that you would just be sitting quietly in each other's presence for an entire hour. It was a strange thought being completely alone with him, and you were worried that it would be uncomfortable.  However, after only fifteen minutes had gone by, you found that it was actually fairly comfortable. He sat at the desk at the front of the room, reading a book, and you sat and – stared – at your math assignment.

Math wasn't your best subject to begin with and the added stress of knowing that you were going to get in a lot of shit if you didn't get it done for the next day was just making it harder. After several erased equations and poor guesses you huffed in frustration and placed your head in your hands. Ms. Richardson was going to ream you out for sure.

There was the sound of chair being pushed back and then footsteps. The sound got closer and closer until they stopped near your desk.

"What are you working on?" Mr. Akaashi's gentle voice came from above you.

You lifted your face from your hands and leaned back in your chair.

"A math assignment," you sighed and the added, "And the reason I have detention."

"How so?"

"It was due today. I already missed handing in the last assignment we had," You played with your fingers as you spoke into your lap, "So I got detention to finish this once since, to quote Ms. Richardson, 'getting my work done at home is so hard for me', or something like that."

"Is that so," he said, sounding unimpressed. You didn't look up at him as you nodded in affirmation.

It was quiet for a moment and you wondered if Mr. Akaashi was gearing up to give you some sort of lecture about putting more effort into your classes. Instead he sat down sideways in the desk in front of you and leaned on your desk. You looked up at him.

" _Is_ it difficult for you to get your work done at home?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Um," It was a hard question to answer and you found yourself averting your eyes again. "It can be, yeah."

You started playing with the corner of your assignment paper anxiously.

"May I ask you why?"

He didn't ask it accusingly, which was a nice change of pace for you, and made you a little more inclined to answer. Still, talking about home with other people wasn't really something you'd ever done.

"Well, home can be –" you took a breath and exhaled slowly– "loud. Um, I have a lot of younger siblings, and my mom works a lot of hours so I usually end up taking care of them."

He didn't say anything, just listened intently, so you continued, "And I also work on the weekends to help with food and stuff, so..." you trailed off, finding it getting more difficult to speak.

"So you don't have a lot of free time to get school work done," he finished for you.

"No, I don't," you whispered.

It was quiet again and you started to feel the shame of your home life building up inside of you. Tears started to form in your eyes. You didn't want to cry in front of your cute English teacher, but the embarrassment you felt was too strong to keep in.

You heard your name called gently and looked up to see Mr. Akaashi looking at you seriously.

"If getting your work done at home is too difficult, you are welcome to come to my classroom at lunchtime on days that I don't have cafeteria duty to do your work."

You took in a shaky breath and wiped the tears from your eyes. "Okay."

"Also, I may only be an English teacher, but if math is giving you trouble, don't hesitate to come to me for help."

At that you gave him a questioning look, which made him laugh.

"My best friend is a math whiz," he explained, "and also the only reason that I made it through high school math with the understanding that I did." He gave you smirk. "I may not be able to solve complicated equations in my head like he can, but I can certainly explain the more difficult concepts to you if you are struggling."

That pulled a watery smile from you and you nodded your head.

"May I help you with this now?" He placed a hand on the sheet in front of you.

"Please," you laughed.

"Alright."

You spent the rest of detention finishing your assignment with Mr. Akaashi's help. He was good at explaining things without making you feel stupid, something Ms. Richardson didn't even bother trying to do, and with each equation solved, the knot of tension in your chest loosened.

When detention was over, Mr. Akaashi dismissed you with the reassurance that his classroom was always open. You walked home feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, and looked forward to taking him up on that offer.


End file.
